Of Hatchets and Zombies [CLOSED]

The forlorn filly on Jasmines back simply gave her a sad look and a small nod. She was clearly traumatized and still reeling from the loss of her friends and family, but was holding it together for now. Cinnamon was likely to have been permanently scarred by the experience, and it would probably haunt her for the rest of her life. The pain would fade with time, but it would never leave her.

Sanctity, meanwhile, chose a good time to turn away from the conversation and focus on the trail again. buried in the dirt in front of him was an old pre-war mine, only noticeable because some of the dirt covering it had been washed away. The ghouls had been incredibly lucky not to set it off. After Crackle swooped down to examine it, the group decided to just leave it be and go around. The griffin didn't want to risk tampering with it, and returned to his position above the party.

As the day went on, the two airborne members of the group would notice the plume of dust in the distance drawing a bit closer. By the time the sun began to set and the glow coming through the eternal overcast began to fade, it looked like it had reached the remnants of the caravan. The two couldn't be sure of it due to the fading light, but it looked like the plume had dispersed. Crackle assumed that whatever was making it had stopped to pillage what little loot was left.

Not long after, the group came across a good site to make camp for the night: a pair of old, decrepit skywagons, never to fly again. One had apparently crashed, the crumpled frame sticking up out of the wasteland from a small, water-filled crater. The vehicle looked like it had nosedived right into the dirt, standing close to vertical with the front embedded in the ground. Its cargo, which seemed to mostly consist of barrels of strange rainbow-coloured goo, had been ejected in the crash. Most had landed in or around the cater, turning the water there a distinctly unhealthy shade of sickly orange. Despite Jasmine's pipbuck ticking rapidly when she wandered near, Jackpot decided to stay a safe distance away. He recognised the rainbow fluid as taint, and wanted nothing to do with it. A short distance away was a second skywagon, this one intact. The skeleton of a pegasus still hung limply in the harness. The paint on the side was mostly worn away, but a symbol matching one of the ones on the barrels of goo could still be seen, as well as a few military emblems. It had been thoroughly scavenged, however, and all that was left inside was a pair of tattered yellow environmental suits and some assorted junk. Only the most skilled craftspony could manage to salvage a passable suit [Requires 80 repair] from the ragged remains. However, it was defendable, big enough for all of them, and, perhaps most importantly, the roof hadn't yet rusted through. The darkening clouds hung low overhead, laden with moisture, and nopony (or griffin) wanted to try and sleep in the rain. The party decided to make camp here, with the (relatively) intact skywagon serving as a passable shelter.

Crackle looked at the bits of what was once an environmental suit and shook his head. No way he was going to make something out of that. Instead, he began passing out the food he had looted from the caravan earlier that day. Once that was done, he approached Deus. After hesitating for a moment, he extended the combat knife taken off of one of the dead ponies earlier hilt-first.

"I'm a bit hesitant about giving you this after you almost blew us all up earlier, but if you're going to be an effective member of the team, you're going to need something better than... that." He gestured vaguely at the strange knife she had used earlier. "This should be a bit more effective."

Deus stared at the gryphon for a moment. What would he want in exchange? Was this some sort of trap? Perhaps he had poisoned the knife? But that wouldn't make any sense. She would have to watch him closely, and never use that knife when her life depended on it. She honestly considered her magic to be a far superior weapon in any case, but she was wary of the knife, even if she didn't know what type of trap it was.

She gingerly accepted the knife. "Why don't you want to use it? Is there something wrong with it?" She asked, hiding her true suspicions. No doubt he's imbued it with some anti-magic field of some kind, or some other way to weaken me. Destroy it or dispose of it. We should gut him with it! Kill the fucker with his own knife, lick his blood off of it! He's giving us a gift, for free? How kind... We don't deserve this...

Crackle patted the grenade rifle slung across his shoulders in response. "I prefer weapons that pack a bit more of a punch. Knives are too subtle for my tastes. As far as I can tell, though, its a decent blade. You should be able to kill plenty of ghouls with that, which is what we came here for, after all." He cast a critical eye over her arsenal, not managing to hide his disapproval. "Your horn might have some power behind it, but you're going to need some better gear. Otherwise, you'll be more of a hindrance than a help when we find the rest of these bastards... er, no offence, Jackpot."

Sanctity had remained relatively quiet, even for him throughout the journey. Nearly missing that mine had shaken him a little, and he'd decided to keep his eyes on the trail with a little more intensity than normal, something which prevented him from listening with too much accuracy to the conversation. The light sense of unease wasn't helped by Jackpot telling them to stay clear of the seemingly innocuous crash site.

But, as they reached the second, intact skywagon, he felt a little better. Crackle handing him food helped too. He chewed on a little piece of dried apple whilst looking over his new hat, flicking it around in his magical aura. He liked the thing, it definitely suited him, and when he got back, he'd probably wash the dried blood off of it. He'd almost gotten the bloodstains out of his mane before putting it on.

Deus wanted to growl at what was surely an insult, but she didn't want them turning against her before she got a chance. She accepted the knife not sure what to do with it, and then Sanctity asked who wanted first watch. She considered it briefly, but that dog and perhaps a few of the others seemed like they might be able to awaken with little disturbance, such as the slitting of a throat or the choking gasps of a strangling pony. She frowned at her predicament at large, deciding that she would have to let them live. All of them. Does that mean we get to have friends?... DAMMIT, I just want oooone little lung IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK?!! There will be a chance, later.

Jackpot declined the food when it was offered. Being undead had its advantages after all, and not needing sustenance like the living was one of them. Instead, he walked to the front of the wagon, where a rusty metal bulkhead separated the cargo area from the armoured passenger area. He ducked through the open hatch and used one of his axes to chop through the tangled harness holding the bones of the pegasus. He tossed the skeleton, still wearing the ragged remains of what had once been the uniform of the Equestrian air force, out through the shattered transparent dome on the front of the vehicle and sat down, gazing out across the wastes. His ears swiveled back to listen to the conversation, but preferred to remain at a comfortable distance.

The undead dog let out a dry chuckle at Crackle's statement, turning to look over his shoulder at the griffin. His blackened muzzle poked out from under his hood, the exposed bone standing out sharply in the rapidly diminishing light. "They're nothing more than senseless animals, too weak to hold onto their minds. The ferals and I are akin only in appearance, nothing more. They give a bad name to ghouls such as I, and killing the mindless beasts is a favor to the world." Jackpot turned his attention back to the wasteland as Sanctity spoke up. "I'll be up all night. Sleep isn't something I need anymore. Another set of eyes would be welcome, though, to watch where my eye's aren't."

Sanctity nodded as he looked at the ghoul. before looking away and moving around to the opposite side of the place they were camping in. Between them, they should be able to keep a competent watch out for any of the ponies who tended to maraud the wastes late at night. He pulled a canister of Dash out and smiled as he thought about what the ghoul had said about not needing sleep. "Same here, buddy" he said, as he shook it in his magic to make sure it was full. The gentle *swish* *swish* of the condensed gas bringing a little more warmth to his smile.

Last edited by Sanctity on Wed Mar 13, 2013 1:52 pm; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : Removing my derps)

Jasmine trotted over and found a comfortable spot for Cinnamon to rest. She scooted any debris out of the way to try to make as comfortable a camping experience for her as possible and set her down to rest. "Ok, we're going to go ahead and thettle down for the night... But I'll be right here with you ok? Let me thee if I have thomething to make you more comfortable..." Jasmine reached into her saddlebag and pulled out her old Stable uniform. She grasped the cloth with her teeth, which has become soiled with dirt in the time that she has spent in the wastes. She dragged the cloth across the ground and laid it down for cinnamon. "Thith'll make you a bit more comfey... And I'll fold the retht around you to keep you warm."

Jasmine tried to force a smile to help cheer her up. A task which seemed to be incredibly difficult, even for her... She was just glad that she had the opportunity to be the kind heart this foal would need. Maybe in some small way she could make a difference in Cinnamon's life with her kindness.

Crackle nodded to Deus before turning and addressing the group at large. "As nice as it is not to need sleep, I'd prefer not to leave my fate in the paws of a Diamond Dog I just met or somepony strung out on dash. Besides, I doubt you have enough to last the entire night, not to mention what condition you'll be in tomorrow. We'll take shifts. Sanctity, since you were so kind to volunteer, I guess you can take the first watch. I'll take second. The rest is up to you all."

He then proceeded to sit down against the bulkhead separating the cargo area from the crew compartment and began cleaning, tinkering, and doing general maintenance on his gear, preparing to catch some sleep before his turn on watch.